


Need

by QueensJenn



Series: Always [2]
Category: Ylvis
Genre: Angst, Brotherly feels, Bulimia, Cuddling, Depression, Gen, Implied substance abuse, Super Angst, unrequited balle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 09:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1382593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueensJenn/pseuds/QueensJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are a messy tangle of dependance and desperation and breakdowns, and they'll fall apart without him.</p><p>(Vegard doesn't have bad days)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting unfinished on my hard drive since late December, and has completely ballooned from what it started out as. I'm not super happy with Calle's part, but I really struggled with it. I hope it's clear enough what's going on there!

Vegard can tell when Calle's had a rough night. He doesn't ask anymore, and he doesn't berate or scold. It won't do any good, anyway. Calle is a grown man and he doesn't respond to that kind of treatment anyway, he never has. Besides, it's not like he's doing it on purpose. Not exactly, anyway. He never means for it to happen, it's just that one beer becomes two, and then three and four, and then the vodka comes out, and then things really take off, and before you know it it's 9am and they have to be ready for filming at noon

 

He doesn't mean to do it. It just sort of happens. It's not like he's never tried to stop. He's not a bad person.

 

It's just that he doesn't know what he wants. 

 

Vegard supposes it's his fault in a way, his and Bård's. They'd invited him to this whole god-forsaken project, after all. They'd asked him to drop everything and come with them to do something they weren't even sure would succeed.

 

(Maybe that's why he agreed to do it, Vegard thinks sometimes. Because he thought it would fizzle out after the first season and he could leave again.)

 

Well, it did and look where they are now. 

 

It's just that, other things don't stop even when you get super successful, and you don't stop caring about the things you had before. Or the people you knew before. 

 

And then there's the thingsno one talks about, that no one else knows about, that Vegard wonders sometimes if even Calle is aware of it, or if he buries it under his sarcastic facade or if maybe that's why he drinks. 

 

He wonders if things were different, if people were different, if it would help. If they lowered the walls around their hearts, if somehow they could talk, if Calle could finally find the answers he's looking for 

 

(That he doesn't know he's looking for)

 

If things would improve

 

(They wouldn't improve, because the one thing he wants is the one thing he can't have because it would destroy them both)

 

So Vegard does nothing. He doesn't scold, he doesn't lecture. He just calmly waits for Calle to be ready to go, and pretends he doesn't see how red his eyes are or how strong the smell of alcohol on his breath is. He diverts questions and makes excuses, like he always has, and uses his vague air of authority to keep things running, to keep people away for as long as he needs.

Sometimes, he tries to help. Calle doesn't know, of course. He can't know that Vegard sometimes goes poking around in his desk late at night, long after he's already fucked off home or to the bar or wherever the hell he goes when he's having a bad day and just wants to forget. He can't know that Vegard sometimes finds his bottles and cans and fuck, sometimes other things as well

 

(Vegard willfully doesn't know what the pills are; the answer is too painful to overcome even his unending thirst for knowledge)

 

And he definitely can't know that sometimes when Vegard tells him that he has no idea where the bottle of whiskey went, that he must have drunk it already, what Vegard's really saying is _I flushed it down the toilet when you were passed out, because this has to stop._

 

(It never stops)

 

Vegard doesn't yell. He doesn't get angry, or upset, or frustrated. It won't do any good anyway. He just quietly keeps an eye on things, and forces himself not to interfere when Calle invites Bård out along, or hangs around Bård’s office late into the night.

 

~~~

 

Vegard can always tell when Bård's started doing _it_ again. 

 

He doesn't know what's triggered it this time, though he can guess - an unflattering picture taken after a show when Bård was undressing for a shower was somehow leaked onto the internet - whether accidentally or on purpose no one knows, but it doesn't matter, the damage is done. They're not supposed to look, of course - not supposed to look at the things their fans write and say about them. It's safer that way; safer and saner for both sides. But Bård has always been the type to break the rules. It's part of what Vegard loves about him. It's also what he hates.

 

It truly, truly is an unflattering picture. 

 

(It makes him ache that it's a photo where Bård is finally at a normal weight)

 

It's not the public's fault. They’re only reacting to what’s put in front of them; they don’t know anything else. It’s something Vegard has always been so impressed with - this has been going on for _years_ , ever since they first got into the public eye, and no one, _no one_ , has ever suspected a thing. 

 

It’s only because he knows Bård so well that he can tell that anything is wrong. They work late into the night on Sundays, getting ready for the filming the next day, and there’s always snacks available: fruit at first, then getting more and more unhealthy as the night goes on and energy levels drop. Bård’s good, usually. He’ll eat the fruit. Sometimes he’ll even take some of the junk food, if he’s feeling particularly good.

 

It’s when he starts shoveling it in by the handful that Vegard’s heart sinks. He’s been hoping against hope, praying even that the pictures will fly under the radar, that somehow Bård will be able to just ignore the comments and get on with his life.

 

He should have known it’s never that easy. 

 

Bård isn’t at home when he goes to find him, which at first seems like a positive sign, until Vegard is faced with the realization he has an even worse problem: _he doesn’t actually know where his brother is_.

He calls his phone a few times but there’s no answer of course, so Vegard takes the risk and hopes Bård’s been smart and gone to the office; gotten over it and carried on with his life.

 

He finds him in the dressing room. Bård is pale and shaky, sitting on the low couch. Bård won’t look at him, and that’s what seals it, that’s how Vegard knows with certainty that it’s come back.

 

Vegard can only sigh when he sees him.

 

He doesn’t know what to say anymore. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Bård says in a small voice. “I just…I don’t know.”

 

“It’s…” Vegard trails off. It’s not ‘okay’, but…”It’s not your fault,” he finishes.

 

Bård shrugs, looking away. “It sort of is, though. They’re just pictures.”

 

Vegard sits down next to him. “Yeah, they are. They’re just pictures. They’re crappy pictures, but…”

 

“I just…everyone saw them.”

 

“A few people saw them,” Vegard sighs, mentally cursing whoever the bastard was that leaked them to the public. “And you know what? In a week or so, they’ll forget about them. Some new celebrity will flash her boobs or get caught doing cocaine, and no one will think about you again.”

 

The ghost of a smile flits over his lips. “You’re right. I’m being stupid.”

 

“Yeah, you are but…I know it’s not that simple.”

 

“It’s really not.” Bård blinks rapidly, willing himself not to cry, but when Vegard puts his arms around his shoulders and pulls him tight, he can’t fight it anymore.

 

“I really thought this time…” he admitted. “I thought maybe this time I could get through it.”

 

Vegard feels like crying too, but he holds it back. Bård needs him to be strong, he can’t break down like a little baby.

 

“How long this time?” he asks, his voice rough. He’s afraid to know, afraid to know how long he’s been neglecting the signs.

 

“A week, maybe,” Bård admits in a whisper. “I tried to ignore it, but I…I looked. I looked at what they were saying online. I know I’m not supposed to, but I couldn’t help it.”

 

“When will you learn?

 

“Not soon enough,” Bård says ruefully. He sits up straight and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’ll try, this time,” he says softly, and Vegard isn’t sure if he’s saying it more to him or to himself. “It’ll be different, this time.”

“You remember our deal?” Vegard asks.

 

Bård looks at him. Nods. “I remember.”

 

“I’m still holding you to that.”

 

He breathes out through his nose. “Vegard…okay. Okay. I promise.”

 

“Good.” He breathes out a silent sigh of relief. At least if it has to start up again, he can have some measure of control over it.

 

Bård smiles softly. “We’d better get back, huh. Who knows what Anders and Espen have come up with by now.”

 

Vegard makes a face. “I don’t even want to think about it.” He stands. “Coming?”

 

“Yeah.” Bård rubs his eyes again. “You go, I just want to wash my face first. Really,” he adds, seeing Vegard’s raised eyebrow. “I promise.”

 

“Okay.” He’s skeptical, but maybe it’s better to show trust at this point.

 

Bård smiles again, though it’s a little painful. “And uh…when we get back…can you just make sure the junk is on the other side of the table? Away…away from me.”

 

Vegard smiles for real. “Of course. Clean yourself up, I’ll see you upstairs.”

 

He nearly bumps into Calle when he opens the door of the dressing room, and he gasps in surprise, his heart racing. _How much did he hear?_ “Fucking hell, Calle!” he snaps.

 

“Sorry, sorry!” Calle lifts his hands in a placating gesture. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You’ve just been gone a long time.”

 

“Yeah? So?” He knows his tone is hostile, but he can’t help it.

 

“I just thought I’d come and see if Bård was okay. He looked a little strange when he left the room.”

 

“He’s fine.”

 

Calle looks like he’s going to try for the door, but Vegard plants himself in front of it. “He’s fine, Calle. I think you should go back upstairs.”

 

For a minute, he thinks the blond man is going to say something, and he panics, because he knows he won’t know what to say or do when it’s out there, acknowledged, in the open. But finally Calle just raises his eyebrow and walks off, shaking his head.

 

~~~

 

It’s like this: Vegard knows he’s the luckiest man in the world. He has a successful career, a nice house, an adoring public, a brother who is his best friend.

 

He loves his work and he loves his life. He really does. 

 

It’s just that there are some days when the air is too heavy and the space inside his head is too thick, and he’s not _sad_ , not exactly, but he’s not _happy_ either, he’s not _anything_ really, and then it becomes 4pm and he hasn’t gone to work and hasn’t gotten out of bed, and no one has noticed at all. 

 

He doesn’t know where his phone is, but it doesn’t matter. It hasn’t rung all day. No one has missed him. They don’t need him. 

 

_Of course they don’t. No one does. You only make everything worse_.

 

He sleeps a little throughout the day, or so he thinks; it’s hard to tell. The hours pass by unnoticed, one fading into the other, the shadows in the room changing shape and position as the sun moves overhead. The blinds are closed but light is peeking in through the slats and he wants to close them fully but the lead ball in his chest won’t let him get up. 

 

So he lays there, and doesn’t move. It’s easier to not move, but it’s not as easy to not _think_. 

 

The sun is almost down when he hears the lock in the front door turn, and the squeak of the hinges. Clearly, the hinges need to be oiled again.

 

_Just one more thing you’ve failed at_

 

“Vegard?” Bård’s voice echoes through the front hall. “Are you here?”

 

_No. Go away. Just leave me alone._

 

“You didn’t come in today…are you sick?”

 

He wants to speak, but a million different answers swirl around in his mind and all of them are wrong, so he lets the breath out and stays silent. 

 

The bedroom door opens and he looks away. He doesn’t want to see the look of disappointment and disgust on his little brother’s face. 

 

Bård sighs and crosses the room. Vegard feels the mattress dip as he sits down on the other side. Then there’s a warm hand on his blanket-covered shoulder and he wants to shake it off, knows he should, but he doesn’t because it feels _so damn good_ that he’s ashamed. 

 

“Did you get out of bed today at all?” Bård’s tone isn’t accusing.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Are you going to get out of bed today?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Okay. That’s okay. You can try again tomorrow.”

 

“Yeah.” He can’t think about it. Tomorrow seems impossibly far away. It feels like this day has already gone on for an eternity.

 

Bård stands up, and for one second he wants to resist, to pull him back down, to beg him _please, don’t leave_ , but he doesn’t. 

 

_Of course he’s going to leave. No one wants to be around you._

 

But Bård smiles. “I bet you haven’t eaten today, either. How about some dinner? I know it’s hard to believe, but I _do_ know how to cook. Sort of.”

 

“I don’t know how,” Vegard snaps, “it’s not like you eat it anyway.” The second the words are out of his mouth, his eyes go wide.

 

Bård bites his lip and wills himself not to take it to heart. _It’s not him, it’s not his fault…_

 

“Oh God, oh, fucking…” Vegard’s breath hitches. “I don’t know why I said that, I’m sorry, Bård, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, fuck…”

 

“It’s okay,” Bård says, sitting down on the edge of the bed again. He puts his hand back on Vegard’s shoulder. “It’s not you. You’re not you when you say things like that. It’s okay. I know.”

 

Vegard turns his face into the pillow. “Just go…please,” he gasps out. Bård nods and gets up.

 

“Dinner, I think. It’ll be ready in about half an hour.” He crosses the room and shuts the door, but not before hearing the muffled sounds of desperate sobs.

 

He sighs and leans against the wall, closing his eyes in relief. It’s going to be okay. He’d known this day was coming for almost a week now, as Vegard turned up at the office looking more and more tired each day. It’s the obvious sign; the insomnia always precedes bad days. When he hadn’t shown up at the office, it had been both worrying and reassuring. Bård’s always a little worried on these days, especially when he can’t get away to go be with his brother, but it’s a relief too. It’s the peak; it’s the worst part, it’s almost over. He hates leaving Vegard to ride it out by himself but it’s what his brother wants; he could never stand to be seen being “weak.” But he needs to get it out. Once he ‘bursts’ like that, that’s the sign. The crisis is over. 

 

So Bård leaves him in peace and gets to making dinner. It’s the least he can do; Vegard never eats well when he gets like this, despite his constant hovering to make sure Bård does. 

 

(And it’s that hovering, that constant questioning that makes it so painful; because he knows it’s his fault Vegard is like this, and the guilt is overwhelming.)

 

_Damn you_ , he thinks as he finishes. _Why do you have to be so good?_

 

Vegard has dozed off by the time Bård knocks on the door. The tear tracks on his face are still visible, and it hurts to wake him. God only knows how little he’s slept this past week. But it has to be done.

 

“Dinner’s ready,” Bård says as Vegard opens his eyes. “Hope you like…spaghetti.”

 

That gets a smile, a real one, and it makes Bård happier than he’s been all day. “I could bring it in here,” he offers. “If you’d rather not get up.”

 

Vegard pauses, then swallows, and nods. “Yeah. I think…I think I’d like that better.”

 

“Okay, no problem.” His hopes deflate a little. “I’ll go get it. And I have a surprise.” 

 

By the time he returns with the two steaming bowls of spaghetti, Vegard has at least made an effort to sit up and look presentable. “You weren’t kidding,” he says, seeing the bowls. “Smells good.”

 

“Thanks. Told you I wasn’t so bad.”

 

Vegard winces, and Bård ignores him. He hands him his bowl, fork and a napkin. “This is fun,” he says. “Reminds me of when we were kids.”

 

“Hmm…”

 

“Of course,” Bård winks, “No sleepover would be complete without a movie. I brought this!” He pulls out the surprise he’d promised. “I know it’s your favourite.”

 

Vegard blinks. “But you hate _Top Gun._ ”

 

“I don’t hate it,” Bård protests as he gets up to slip the DVD in the player. “I just think it’s better with…commentary, is all.”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Bård, your commentary is about how they’re clearly all gay for each other!” But Vegard is smiling again, and there’s even a hint of a giggle in his voice.

 

“All right, all right, fine. You provide the commentary this time,” Bård says, taking his place beside Vegard on the bed. “Tell me all about the planes. Make me forget Maverick and Iceman eyeing each other.”

 

“Bård!” But now Vegard really is laughing, and that’s completely worth sitting through an hour of boring plane facts.

 

~~~

 

Vegard starts to drowse off shortly after finishing eating, even though the movie is only half over. At the three-quarters mark, he’s snoring softly, so Bård gets up and turns it off. He quietly clears up the dishes and puts them in the sink, to be washed in the morning, then gets ready for bed. 

 

Vegard shifts and opens his eyes when he feels the bed move, and then Bård’s arm encircle his chest.

 

“What are you doing?” he asks.

 

“Told you. It’s a sleepover.” 

 

_Because you don’t trust me to be by myself. You think I’m going to do something stupid._

 

“You don’t have to stay.”

 

“I know, but I want to.”

 

Bård’s words bring a fresh wave of guilt and shame, but also relief. He really, really doesn’t want to be alone either.

 

“This is really gay,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. Bård snorts softly. 

 

“We’re brothers. It’s allowed.” 

 

“I guess.” 

 

“Go back to sleep, Vegard.”

 

But he doesn’t. Bård’s presence at his back is warm and comforting, but also a reminder of everything and how badly he’s failed. They needed him. They needed him to keep things running, and to pull his weight, because the office work has to be done and the sketches don’t write themselves and he has to do his part, always. And here he’d spent an entire day lying in bed, doing nothing at all, for absolutely no other reason than he just couldn’t get up.

 

_That’s not a reason, that’s an excuse, and a damn poor one, too. You could get up, you chose not to, and that’s all there is to it. You don’t deserve what you have. You don’t deserve to be taken care of. You don’t deserve —“_

 

He doesn’t realize he’s started crying silently again until Bård’s voice breaks through his thoughts and he realizes his cheeks are wet. 

 

“How are you still awake?” Bård asks.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Bård knows better than to ask him what’s wrong. So he just waits. 

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come in today,” Vegard whispers at last.

 

“It’s okay. We didn’t do much today anyway.”

 

_They didn’t even miss you, that’s how much you’re worth. They didn’t do much because you weren’t there. You’ve failed them again. You don’t deserve to be part of this_.

 

“I thought we’d go out for breakfast tomorrow,” Bård says softly. “Would you like that?”

 

“You don’t have to coddle me,” he says. “With the food, and the movie, and…”

 

“I know. But…sometimes it’s nice to be coddled, isn’t it.”

 

Vegard’s breath hitches again, and Bård feels his shoulders tremble as he fights to hold it in. Finally the fit passes and Vegard relaxes again.

 

“You can’t save everyone, you know,” Bård whispers. “You do so much, you try so hard…I’m afraid that one day it’s going to come back on you.” _It already has_.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vegard mumbles.

 

“Let me deal with Calle.”

 

Vegard turns his head. “You know about Calle?”

 

“Please. Who doesn’t? I know he’s been interested in me since we started working on the show.”

 

“Well…are you?”

 

“I’m not into guys, Vegard, you know that. Calle’s my friend, nothing more. Besides…I’m the last person who should be in a relationship right now. So just…relax, okay? Can you do that? For me? Just try to let things go. You don’t have to fix everyone.”

 

_But if I don’t, then what is my worth? Or is it that you think I can’t? You’re afraid that I’m going to make it worse and drag you down with me. I’m going to fuck up everyone else around me, like I’ve fucked up my own. Couldn’t even get out of bed. You don’t deserve to be around people. You don’t deserve what you have. No one actually likes you. They’re just waiting to see you fall._

 

“I hate seeing you this way. It’s killing you. I don’t want to lose you. I love you.”

 

_You’re going to fail (because you can’t take on everyone’s problems as your own)_

 

_He hates seeing you weak and pathetic (because he loves you)._

 

_You don’t deserve what you have (yes you do, and you know you do.)_

 

“Vegard,” Bård says softly, taking his hand. “Stay here.” And he doesn’t mean physically. 

 

The treacherous voice in his head quiets. And at last, he can sleep. 

 


End file.
